Tim stood near the police line with a grim expression, directing officers to secure the scene. His face relaxed slightly when he saw the familiar faces of the FBI team approaching.
"Time of death is less than an hour ago," Tim informed them. "The victim's husband found the body. We've called the CSI team from the California State Lab; they're on their way."
Nearby, Angela and John were consoling a distraught middle-aged white man—likely the victim's husband.
JJ raised an eyebrow at the mention of a husband. "The victim, Mary Linane, was married?"
"That's unusual," Emily said, frowning. "The killer's previous victims were all single women living alone. This increases his risk-taking by a lot."
Reid immediately chimed in with his usual insight. "Serial killers often lose control over time. Repeated successful murders embolden them, causing them to become more erratic, impulsive, and sloppy."
Jack nudged Reid with his elbow, signaling him to lower his voice. There were still civilians nearby, including the victim's husband. While the media would inevitably learn about the case, hearing such details from FBI agents would stir even more panic.
With Angela and John handling the grieving husband, the FBI agents had time to split up and gather information. Emily and Reid began questioning neighbors, while Jack and JJ walked around the community to get a better sense of the environment.
This complex resembled the previous crime scene but was more upscale. The townhouses were larger, and the community featured a well-maintained swimming pool. Unlike the previous site, these houses were arranged in a rectangular pattern, each unit having its own backyard and a front door facing the central pool area.
Jack ran his hand over a poolside lounge chair—it was spotless, likely cleaned daily. However, the complex had a glaring security flaw: not a single surveillance camera was installed inside the community.
"This looks like a newer middle-class development," JJ remarked, following Jack's gaze.
"Yeah, but the amenities aren't fully developed yet," Jack said. "No fitness center, no yoga studio. It's a transitional community."
He explained, "Developers will build or renovate these kinds of neighborhoods in areas that show potential for growth. Once a high-end shopping center or major supermarket opens nearby, property values increase, attracting middle-class residents.
As wealthier residents move in, local infrastructure improves—more police, better city services, and cleaner streets. Over time, these transitional communities can evolve into fully established, affluent neighborhoods."
JJ nodded. "People living in transitional areas tend to want better security, so they're more likely to trust police officers. That might be why the killer keeps succeeding—he's exploiting that trust."
After circling the community, they returned to the pool area, where Emily and Reid had just finished talking to a stylishly dressed woman.
"She's the neighbor across from the victim," Emily reported. "She was home during the murder but didn't see or hear anything."
Tim walked over, shaking his head. "The officers are still questioning residents, but no one has noticed anything suspicious so far. That bastard just walked right into this place like a ghost. No one noticed him."
As they discussed the case, JJ suddenly tilted her head, her senses catching something. She glanced toward a townhouse with a window facing their direction.
Following her gaze, the others saw a white-haired elderly woman peeking nervously from behind a curtain. When she realized they were watching, she quickly ducked out of sight, letting the curtain fall.
Jack grinned. "What do you think, guys? Think a curious retiree with too much free time might've noticed something?"
In Jack's experience, nosy retirees—like the infamous community informants from Beijing's Chaoyang District—were often invaluable sources of information. He figured American retirees might share similar tendencies.
JJ rolled her eyes at Jack's teasing but took the lead, walking to the woman's door and knocking politely. "Ma'am, we're from the FBI. We have some important questions we'd like to ask you."
There was no response. JJ smiled wryly and raised her voice slightly. "Ma'am, we know you're home."
After a moment of silence, footsteps finally echoed inside the house. An elderly white woman, her hair neatly combed, cautiously opened the door. She clutched her robe tightly, her face tense with apprehension.
"I'm Agent Letts," JJ introduced herself with a warm smile, flashing her badge. She then gestured toward the team. "These are my colleagues. Could you tell us your name?"
"Uh... Susan Groves," the woman answered hesitantly, still gripping her robe. Her posture suggested she was on high alert. "I have a weak heart. I don't want to get involved in any trouble."
"We understand, Ms. Groves," JJ assured her gently. "We just have a few questions. It won't take long."
Jack subtly nudged Reid forward. With his youthful, professorial appearance, Reid tended to put elderly women at ease more effectively than Jack did.
Reid, catching on, asked, "Ms. Groves, did you happen to see anyone entering or leaving the Linane residence this morning?"
The woman glanced at Reid, her reluctance easing somewhat. "Yes... I heard some noises and looked through the peephole.
Around 10:30 AM, I saw someone leaving their house."
Jack's smile widened. Bingo, he thought. "Can you describe the person?"
"He was a handsome man, wearing a suit. Like you," she said, eyeing Jack before adding with a playful smirk, "but not as good-looking. And certainly not as charming as this young man here." She nodded at Reid, who smiled politely.
"Thank you," Reid said. "Have you seen this man around the neighborhood before?"
"Never," Ms. Groves replied firmly. She glanced toward the taped-off townhouse and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Was it her husband who found her? Did he catch her having an affair and kill her? That would be awful."
JJ stifled a laugh. "We can't discuss the details of the case. But why do you think Mary was having an affair?"
"Oh, it's obvious!" Ms. Groves exclaimed, suddenly animated. She leaned in and began recounting her observations in a hushed but excited tone.
"When that man left, he tugged at his shirt and adjusted his tie—like he'd just put his clothes back on. And..."
Her face twisted in disapproval, though her eyes sparkled with gossip-fueled excitement. "He had a tattoo. One of those dreadful designs. I saw it when he was fixing his collar."
Jack's eyes narrowed. "A tattoo? Could you describe it?"
The elderly woman pointed to the left side of her neck. "It was a spider web. Right here. I caught a glimpse when he buttoned his shirt."
(End of Chapter)
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